


Making a Difference

by AliceMcGee



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, set after Kim, sex for solace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 03:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14535951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceMcGee/pseuds/AliceMcGee
Summary: In one day, Trapper became a father and almost immediately lost the child. He's miserable and wants to feel something. So Hawkeye makes him feel something.





	Making a Difference

The Swamp could be a quiet place when you needed it. Hawkeye still refused to fully acknowledge it, but sometimes, it felt almost like a home - not a great home, but a real one. And after this day, after Trapper briefly became a father of a five year old and then had him taken away, home was exactly what the two of them needed, however small and filthy and overall lousy. At least, there was booze.

He finished his drink and went for a refill, swaying on his feet a little. Trapper had stopped babbling about his wife and all those rational reasons why everything was actually well. Now he was just sitting there, drunk and miserable. Hawkeye leaned on the still and stared at Trapper, trying to come up with some words. What were you even supposed to say in situations like these?

Then the door opened and Frank entered, coming back from the shower. Every other time, they would make a stupid joke or something. But this night, they just couldn’t be bothered. Frank gave them a suspicious look, but when his eyes fell on Trapper, a realization lit up in them. Quickly changing into his fatigues, he made few steps towards them. Hawkeye quirked his eyebrows, curious what was to come.

“McIntyre,” Frank said, his voice unusually meek. “I’m sorry about all of that.”

“You know what, Frank?” Trapper said, his words only a little slurred. “It’s alright.”

Frank opened his mouth to say something more, but then closed it. Because even he could tell it wasn’t alright. The opposite. He stood there for a little longer and Hawkeye wondered if he should offer him a drink. Then, Frank cleared his throat.

“I’ll take your shift in post-op, Pierce.” It was an announcement, not an offer, and that in itself stole Hawk’s words away. That wasn’t a feeling he was used to, let alone when Frank was the cause of it, _let alone_ by acting genuinely nice, willing to pull a double just for Trapper’s sake. Hawkeye pinched his arm to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. But it was the reality - the first and probably the last time Frank wasn’t being a jerk.

“Thanks, Frank,” he finally managed. Frank nodded curtly and left.

Trapper lifted his glassy eyes to Hawkeye. “Hit me,” he said, holding up his empty glass and gesturing to the carafe. Hawkeye obliged and then sat down right next to Trapper.

“You know, I was finally thinking I could make a difference,” Trapper said, sounding surprisingly sobered up. Pain can do that to you, negate the booze. There wasn’t any medical explanation, but Hawk knew that.

“You’re making a difference every day, Trap,” he said, grabbing Trapper around shoulders and squeezing. Trapper chuckled gloomily and shook off Hawk’s arm, standing up and starting to pace. All his pain and sadness were turning into anger quickly and Hawkeye didn’t know if that was good or not.

“Some difference,” Trapper finally barked. He looked at his full glass and then set it down, shoving his hands into the pockets of his bathrobe. “I sew kids up and when they’re lucky enough to function, they get sent back to the front. Then someone can try and kill them again. But Kim--” Trapper’s voice broke. Hawkeye’s heart did, too. “I thought I had a chance to change someone’s life, for real this time. For better, dammit!” He smacked a table and turned away from Hawkeye.

There was a long moment of silence. Even the war seemed to mute itself to let Trapper grieve. Hawkeye finally got up and went to him, carefully placing his hand on Trapper’s back.

“I know it’s hard, Trap, but it will get better with time.”

Trapper just snorted. “What do you know, Hawk. You don’t have kids.” There was no ill intention in that sentence, but that didn’t take the sting out of it. Hawkeye withdrew his hand.

“You’re right. I don’t.” He tried to hide the hurt in his voice. But no matter how bad was Trapper feeling, he was still attuned to Hawkeye and immediately turned to him.

“I didn’t mean…” His voice trailed off. He ran his hand through his hair and let out an exasperated sigh. Sneaking around Hawkeye, he sat down on his cot, elbows on knees and chin in hands. “Look, Hawk, there’s nothing you can say to make me feel better right now, okay?”

But it wasn’t okay, not for Hawkeye. And maybe Trapper was right, maybe there was nothing to say. But there was no way he wouldn’t at least try. So he went and sat down next to Trapper, close enough for them to touch because that was the only way to comfort people besides talking he knew.

There was another long moment of silence and Hawkeye closed his eyes. The sadness and pain were radiating from Trapper in palpable waves that seemed to wash over Hawkeye. Trapper was one of the strongest people Hawkeye knew, maybe the strongest one, and him being so utterly broken by losing Kim spoke volumes about how much he’d come to love that little boy in such a short time. Strongest man Hawkeye knew, and with a heart as soft as a baby bird. Hawkeye felt affection expanding in his chest, in his whole body until it was all that he was.

Then there was a sob, a tiny little one, and it plunged right through Hawkeye. He set his glass on the floor and turned to Trapper and then they were hugging and Trapper was clinging to him, crying unabashedly into Hawk’s chest, his warm tears soaking into the fabric of Hawk’s bathrobe. And Hawkeye was holding Trapper close, his hands running up and down Trapper’s back while he was whispering meaningless words into Trapper’s hair.

He didn’t know how long it took for Trapper to cry his heart out, but eventually, he ran out of tears and was breathing deeply, his hands still clutching the lapels of Hawkeye’s robe. Hawkeye dropped a kiss on top of Trapper’s head and still holding him close with one arm, he reached into his pocket to fish out a clean handkerchief. Trapper wiped his face and blew his nose.

“I’m sorry, Hawk,” he said, his voice low and rough from crying. Hawkeye looked at him and it was probably those bloodshot, puffy hazel eyes that caused his brain to short-circuit. He leaned in and kissed Trapper’s forehead, then his nose and then lips. It was a gesture of friendship, pure and platonic, just another sort of comfort to offer. And when Trapper kissed his lips in return, it was still platonic. Gratitude and relief to not be alone in this.

The next kiss, despite Hawkeye’s best intention, was different. Longer. Less pure. Less platonic. But Trapper didn’t protest and he didn’t protest either when Hawkeye leaned in once more. Blue eyes looked into hazel eyes. Something passed between them - some sort of understanding.

Then they were kissing in earnest, Hawkeye sucking on Trapper’s bottom lip, their tongues stroking against each other, teeth clashing, and soft moans mixing between their mouths when they came for breath.

“Trap,” Hawkeye said, not knowing what to say next. He pulled away from Trapper to give himself a chance to come up with something. Panic was licking at the base of his spine. What had he done? What had they done? What were they going to do next?

“It’s okay, Hawk,” Trapper whispered. “Come back here.”

And seeing the sadness returning to Trapper’s eyes, Hawkeye couldn’t deny him. All those questions, they could wait. Trapper couldn’t. So when Trapper opened his arms, Hawkeye went willingly, his hands grasping the back of Trapper’s robe and his lips finding their place on Trapper’s throat, rubbing against Trapper’s stubble. Then he latched his mouth on the pulsing vein, savoring how good Trapper’s quickened heartbeat felt.

Trapper’s fingers tangled in his hair, drawing his head back and he kissed Hawkeye’s lips with enough force to leave little bruises on them. His hands were on Hawkeye’s hips, fingers digging in, and suddenly, there was a movement and Hawkeye was straddling Trapper’s thighs. The cot squeaked under them and the sound, unexpected and loud for Hawkeye’s ears, seemed to whisk him out of the trance Trapper’s kisses had brought.

“Wait,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against Trapper’s. “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know, Hawk. I just want to feel something,” Trapper said and the pain in his voice tugged at Hawkeye’s heartstrings. The thoughts of being careful and how awkward it would be between the two of them in the morning flew out of the window. All that mattered was right there and then. All that mattered was to make Trapper feel better, or at least less awful. All that mattered was the two of them, consequences be damned.

He kissed Trapper some more, his hands pushing Trapper’s bathrobe off his shoulders and then running across Trapper’s chest, down to his stomach, finding the hem of Trapper’s undershirt. He broke the kiss to look into Trapper’s eyes when his fingers touched Trapper’s bare skin for the first time. Trapper gasped at the contact and leaned back, bracing himself on his hands. Hawkeye let himself explore for a minute, mapping Trapper’s muscles. Trapper’s hips started bucking up in tiny little moves and his cock was obviously hard in his shorts. Suddenly, Hawkeye’s mouth watered at the thought of tasting Trapper, sucking him off until he would come. He would have never guessed how much he could want to do that, how much he could want a man. But this was Trapper. And Trapper was special.

Not really thinking about it, he slid off Trapper’s lap and sank to his knees in one swift move. Trapper let out a sound of protest at first, but it died on his lips once he saw where Hawkeye was.

“Hawk, you don’t have to,” he said, licking his lips.

“I want to,” Hawkeye said, adding a wink and palming Trapper’s cock through the thin fabric of his shorts, loving how it made Trapper gasp and how his eyes fluttered shut. “If you want that, too.”

Trapper only managed to nod, but that was enough for Hawkeye. He grabbed Trapper’s shorts and pulled them down. Then he took a moment to appreciate what was before him. Trapper’s chest was heaving, the muscles of his stomach were flexing and his cock was hard and deep red. All framed by Trapper’s yellow bathrobe. It was the most gorgeous thing Hawkeye had ever seen and he tried to burn the image into his brain. Trapper made an impatient sound, though, so Hawkeye stopped staring and leaned in. They were both too eager, so he didn’t bother with a foreplay, going straight to sucking the tip of Trapper’s cock into his mouth.

His senses were attacked - Trapper’s taste, the heavy and musky scent of his arousal, the sounds Trapper was making. It was almost too much. And not enough at all.

At first, he was careful, taking just few inches into his mouth, but with each of Trapper’s groans, he grew bolder. He’d always loved giving a head to women, loved when he could make them squirm and beg just with his lips and tongue. Doing it for Trapper was something more. But there were times and places to ponder this and this was not one of them.

He swirled his tongue around the head of Trapper’s cock and Trapper moaned, sifting through his hair.

“Fuck, Hawk. Can you take more?”

He could. The question was, was he willing to let his best friend use him like this?

Of course he was.

“Yeah.” He let Trapper’s cock slip out of his lips for a moment. “Fuck my mouth.”

And Trapper did, holding Hawkeye’s head with both hands and thrusting hard and deep into Hawkeye’s mouth, showering Hawkeye with praise and retreating and whispering sorry’s when he made him gag, only for Hawkeye to pull him back each time. Hawkeye’s chin was dripping a mix of saliva and pre-come. It was a mess and he loved every minute. His own cock was painfully hard, so much that Hawkeye couldn’t take it any longer. One hand still braced against Trapper’s hip to have some control, he sneaked the other into his shorts and fisted it around his cock. Still mostly focused on Trapper, he started to stroke himself, matching the pace of Trapper’s hips. Each of his moans made Trapper moan in response and that in turn sent jolts of arousal through Hawkeye’s cock. This wasn’t going to last long.

He looked up at Trapper and his heart skipped a beat at the sight. Trapper’s cheeks were flushed, his jaw slack and mouth open and his hooded eyes glassy. Not the kind of glassy you get from drinking. Neither the kind you get from just fucking. There was more, a whole lot of emotions swirling in there. But before Hawkeye could make any sense of it, Trapper’s eyes shut and he tensed up, firmly holding Hawkeye in place. Hawkeye had barely any time to prepare himself before Trapper’s cock was pulsing in his mouth and he was coming down Hawkeye’s throat. Not for the first time that evening, Hawkeye thanked the Universe for barely having a gagging reflex. He didn’t even realize his hand on his cock sped up.

“Hawk,” Trapper whispered when he released Hawkeye, the sound broken in the most delicious way and that was all it took for Hawkeye to tip over the edge too, coming in his shorts like a teenager, his face pressed against Trapper’s thigh to muffle his cry of pleasure.

He went to some sort of delirium later, only half-aware of Trapper hauling him up on his cot and cleaning him with a towel. His throat was sore and his knees hurt, but otherwise, he was feeling great. More than great. Something had changed, both in himself and in his and Trapper’s friendship. And maybe in the morning this would all seem like a mistake, but the morning wasn’t there yet. His eyes shut and he could feel a stupid little grin forming on his lips while Trapper put his shorts and bathrobe back on.

“Give me a minute and I’ll go to my bed,” Hawkeye murmured when Trapper stretched next to him.

“Stay,” Trapper said and that made Hawkeye look at him. The pain was still in Trapper’s eyes, but not that raw anymore, somehow dimmed. Hawkeye lifted his hand to caress Trapper’s cheek and Trapper melted into the simple touch.

“What if someone finds us like this?” Hawkeye asked, but he already knew that he wouldn’t refuse Trapper’s wish. Not now and probably not ever.

“They’ll think we just passed out from the gin,” Trapper said, pointing to their half-full glasses.

“Okay then. I’ll stay,” Hawkeye whispered and cuddled up to Trapper, hugging him around the waist and resting his head on Trapper’s chest. They were quiet for a while. Hawkeye started to drift off, lulled by the strong and steady rhythm of Trapper’s heart under his ear.

“Hawkeye,” Trapper whispered, kissing the top of Hawkeye’s head. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Anytime, buddy.”


End file.
